


Saferoom

by AzuraJae



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Based on a RE6 document, Blood and Injury, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Game: Resident Evil 2, Game: Resident Evil 2 Remake (2019), Game: Resident Evil: The Darkside Chronicles, Gen, Green herbs are one hell of a medicine, Injury Recovery, Suicidal Thoughts, Treating Wounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:15:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25917937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzuraJae/pseuds/AzuraJae
Summary: The cop only vaguely recalled the writhing degrading corpses grabbing onto his leg and back, sinking their discolored teeth directly onto his flesh, through his uniform while pus-colored fingernails scraped away, breaking skin. Leon wasn’t even sure how he had been able to escape; it was all a blur of blank fleshy faces and sickening guttural noises.All Leon had felt was the raw, primal urge to survive.It was like Leon had become a monster himself, renewed with inhuman strength, ripping off the gnawing heads, biting, scratching, kicking, anything, just so he could live a second longer.Perhaps that was scarier than the zombies themselves.
Kudos: 20





	Saferoom

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story a long time ago, I think right after I finished playing RE2make a few months ago. This sort of started as simply a test of my skill, I wanted to see how well I could realistically and intricately write a scenario within Resident Evil 2. This is actually based off a document you can find in RE6 (one called 'Leon and the Raccoon City Incident', where it details a bit of Leon's thoughts during the incident. He had mentioned wanting to 'end it' in that document, and putting it into perspective of the RE2make makes it sort of tragic.
> 
> Most of this is based off the RE2make version of events, but I mixed in some elements from the original and Darkside Chronicles version. In this canon, Leon met Marvin and did meet up with Claire & Sherry, but somehow got separated. The setting of this story is in the Break Room Saferoom in RE2make, with some minor changes.
> 
> Also my cousin and friend helped me proofread this for once, so big thanks to them.

Leon slammed the door closed, as quickly and quietly as he could. He couldn’t afford to make any more noise, not while that giant creepy wax-colored fiend was still stomping around the building. His eyes quickly scanned the room, eyes darting around to find something to barricade the door with. There was no chance he was going to just close the door and  _ hope  _ the zombies wouldn't manage bang it open with their gnarled bloody fists. His eyes settled on a table and he pushed it into place, against the door handle. It wasn’t a very sturdy barricade, but it would do for now, enough to give him some time to shoot if he had to. Leon had to go back out there eventually, there was nowhere else to go from here. 

He heaved with every pant, collapsing by the door, swallowing his breaths in an effort to just be a little more quieter. Leon’s heart continued to throb wildly, sweat dripping from his grimy face and hair, his limbs still prickly from overexertion. He coughed a little, his lungs feeling dry and cold.

Leon touched his throat, wincing as he swallowed. That… thing earlier, it had grabbed him by the throat when he was trying to escape one of the many rooms. His memories of the event were fuzzy at best, but Leon vaguely recalled being jerked up, hanging by his neck. As his consciousness began to slip away, the crushing grip squelching his throat shut, Leon vividly remembered the air draining away in his lungs and flailing his legs out, scraping at the large leathery hand with his nails. It took him some time to realize he was actually being strangled to death. The panic of the realization had spooked him enough to scrape up what lucidity he had left and jam a knife into the monster’s arm, which prompted it to finally let him go. He had wasted no time scrambling to his feet and running away, not looking back.

The intensity of memories made Leon shudder as he traced parts of his neck where he felt those brutish fingers had gripped. These will certainly leave nasty bruises later. As his hand drew to the back of his neck, he felt something wet. 

“Ack!” He flinched as his fingertips grazed something wet and fleshy at the back of his neck, surprised by the sudden pain. 

The scabbing bumps stung horribly as his dry fingers grazed over it, lighting the sensitive gore ablaze. The young man quickly withdrew his hand, holding it up to his face to see what he had touched. It was dark in the room, but Leon could tell by the reddish glint and the smell that it was blood.

“Ah, damn it.” he cursed, mentally trying to assure himself the injuries weren’t that bad. “ _ Shit. _ ”

But  _ boy,  _ do they hurt.

His heart had finally begun to calm down from the adrenaline high, but the agonizing pulsations had migrated elsewhere, to the wounds he had forgotten about. Even so, Leon was thankful that the high of adrenaline had suppressed the hurt of these wounds. He wasn’t sure he would have been able to contend with both his wounds while being chased or attacked.

Leon closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall and tensing his muscles, hissing air through his teeth and bruised lips, trying to stave off the incoming pain. Unfortunately, the feeling came anway, painting his nerves with hot agonizing flashes. It felt like his bones were on fire, open flesh grinding against each other, exposed to the dry crusty air which seemed to only further scrape at the wounds.

The cop only vaguely recalled the writhing degrading corpses grabbing onto his leg and back, sinking their discolored teeth directly onto his flesh, through his uniform while pus-colored fingernails scraped away, breaking skin. Leon wasn’t even sure how he had been able to escape; it was all a blur of blank fleshy faces and sickening guttural noises.

All Leon had felt was the  _ raw _ , primal urge to survive. 

It was like Leon had become a monster himself, renewed with inhuman strength, ripping off the gnawing heads, biting, scratching, kicking,  **_anything_ ** _ ,  _ just so he could live a  _ second  _ longer. 

Leon distinctly remembered grinding his teeth in a panic, maybe he had been shouting too, thrashing wildly as rotting fingers scratched away at his body, trying to wrench him down to the ground. In the confusion, the rookie cop had jerked his elbow into a zombie’s head with as much force as he could muster, snapping its neck in a horrid fashion. There had been a freaky  _ crunch _ as the zombie made some pathetic sound, falling to the floor, dead to the world.

Maybe not for long though, Leon didn’t stop to check. Leon didn’t care at the time. But maybe he should have. 

Pressing eyes glared at him within the depths of his mind.

_ You survived.  _ It said smugly.

Perhaps that was scarier than the zombies themselves. 

“O-okay…” Leon forced himself to say as his breathing started to finally stabilize, his voice quaking with each syllable. “Enough of that.” He took another deep breath.

Taking one more deep breath, Leon picked up his flashlight and shined it across the room, taking a better look at his surroundings. It looked like this would have been the building’s rest area or sleeping quarters. He noticed broken coffee pots on the floor and a dirty fridge whose contents have been long since forgotten. Seeing this gave Leon an awkward bubbly feeling in the pits of his stomach, realizing that this is where he would have relaxed with his fellow cops had things not gone to shit. Before he could get too teary eyed, Leon just sighed sadly and continued on scanning the room.

There was also another opening that seemed to lead to another room, though it was still too dark to see too far into the room. Leon contemplated getting up to turn on the lights using the switch he noticed earlier, but he remembered that lumbering tyrant and decided it would be better if he didn’t. The last thing he needed right now is that thing finding out where he was. 

With some effort, Leon dragged himself onto his feet, wincing with every movement he made. His injuries protested desperately, pleading with him to just sit down and rest. Leon just ignored the cries, deciding to press on. He couldn’t really relax anyway knowing there might be another one of those undead hiding in the corner of that other room, waiting to catch him.

He hobbled towards the opening, holding onto the wall to keep his balance, but kept both his flashlight and pistol out just in case. The last thing Leon wanted was to be caught off guard and mauled to death. He peered through the darkness, sweeping the area with his flashlight and picking apart the room with his eyes, just like they taught him at the police academy. Who knew that training would come in handy for a situation like this? 

There were no zombies in sight, just some dirty bunk beds that look mostly stripped clean of most materials, leaving behind dusty mattresses and some torn pillows. There was a small bed stand between the two beds. It was decorated haphazardly with fragments of torn paper, blood, and a lamp, which has since been knocked over with its cable trailing into the cracks between the furniture. There was a worn chair strewn randomly in the center of the room. After making sure the beds were clear, Leon leaned down as much as he could without hurting himself to see if there was anyone hiding underneath, but there was nothing.

He sighed in relief before noticing the bouncing light of his flashlight coming from right in front of him. Right across from where he was standing was a quaint little sink, adorned with a small cabinet mirror on top of it.

When Leon peered into the mirror, he involuntarily jumped at the sight of his own reflection. In the dark, it was pretty easy to mistake his reflection as something more sinister. Curious, Leon limped closer to the sink to try take a look at how he looked. He pointed the flashlight at the mirror, trying to see if he could see himself properly, but it was too dark.

Remembering what he saw, Leon turned to look at the lamp on the bedside table. He wondered if it would still work. 

He took a few steps towards the beds, but when he was about halfway there his injured leg finally gave way. It ended up tangling with his other one, causing him to lose balance and start hurtling towards the ground, losing his flashlight in the process. Leon nearly smashed his head against the chair in the center of the room, but managed to catch himself by grabbing onto the sturdy beams of the bed and steadying himself. He stood still for a moment, his heart thumping his throat, thanking his quick reflexes for catching him. 

Leon shuffled forward carefully, managing to seat himself on the edge of one of the beds. He sagged tiredly, finally giving his legs the rest they so desperately needed. He chuckled slightly, realizing the irony of surviving life and death situations only to die by slipping.

“Let’s not do that again.” Leon breathed to himself, leaning over to pick up the fallen flashlight.

Leon spent a moment trying to gather himself before finally turning his attention to the lamp on the table. He reached over and up-righted it, examining it with his flashlight. The bulb wasn’t cracked, but its ‘hat’ had been torn and the body was slightly damaged, but it still looked like it was in working condition. Leon fumbled with it a bit, tracing his hand along the cable, trying to find a switch to turn it on. Instead, he found a little knob near the head of the lamp, which he turned with bruised fingers. As if by magic, the little bulb illuminated slowly, painting the room with a soft warm light that almost seemed a little too welcoming in comparison to the carnage of the world around them.

When Leon felt the warmth of the light grace his face, he found himself smiling in glee. It was such a small thing to be happy about, but Leon felt like he finally found some pocket of safety in this hellish nightmare he was trapped in. He placed the lamp back on the table, stilling for a moment afterwards, entranced by the warm glow and the shadows on the wall. Seeing as he was out of danger, he leaned on the side of the bunk bed, giving his body a chance to rest for a second. All his senses seemed to dull and Leon lazily blinked his eyes, breathing slowly.

He was about to close his eyes when a frightening feeling jostled Leon out of the drowsy trance. A voice of urgency inside his head reminded him of where he was and Leon swallowed nervously, wondering what would have happened if he had fallen asleep here. He shook his head vigorously to try shake off the heavy feeling in his eyelids, but instead the jerky movement reawakened the burning wounds he had tried so hard to forget.

“Gee, why don’t you try  _ jumping jacks _ next time…” he mumbled, annoyed at himself as he craned his neck uncomfortably.

There was a sticky feeling at the back of his neck and Leon tentatively reached behind his neck again to check the damage he had done to himself. He was surprised how wet the wound had gotten; he wasn’t losing  _ that  _ much blood, right? Leon brought his hand back and grew squeamish when his eyes flitted over the blood now drenched on his hands. It was different in the dark, when he really couldn’t see the full extent, but now…

He shook his fingers free of the blood droplets, instinctively wiping his hand off at the edge of the mattress. Leon was reminded of the injury on his leg, which had earlier been chomped on unceremoniously by a zombie earlier in the night. Even without rolling up the pant leg, Leon could see the fabric of his uniform clinging to his skin, stained red with blood and cased in dirt. He wasn’t sure he was ready to see the carnage underneath, but Leon swallowed his fears and began to try to peel the fabric away.

Most of the process went smoothly, until he reached the affected area. The moment Leon tried tugging away his pant leg from the wound, the pain had grown so intense that Leon jerked his hand away and let it go. It was like the material had meshed into his flesh and skin, dried blood locking it all together. Pinpricks of tears spurred on by the pain dotted Leon’s eyes as he hissed to himself, wondering how he was going to deal with this. Leon was tempted to just let it be, but he knew that if he just left the wound as it is, that would fester and get  _ much  _ worse later. He  _ needs _ to get back into running shape as soon as possible. He wouldn’t be able to outrun the zombies or the giant lumbering monster otherwise.

Deeming the pain too intense for now, Leon decided that maybe it was better to deal with his other injuries first. He patted down on his arms and legs, seeing if there were any other open wounds, but other than a few areas that were probably just bruised, everything seemed okay. The fabric and padding of the uniform had shielded his body from most injuries thankfully. Other than the bruises he could easily ignore, the only things he needed to worry about were the open wounds on his neck and leg.

He dug around a bit in his hip pouches and pockets, trying to see if he had any supplies to treat his wounds. A first aid spray or some herbs would be more than welcome at this moment. Fortunately, he still had some leftover Red and Green herb mixture in one of his pouches. There wasn’t enough for all of his injuries, but it was certainly better than nothing. He also was able to pull out a roll of bandages and some medical patches he had swiped from the S.T.A.R.S. office’s first aid kit. Most of the medical supplies in the kit have already been looted, but fortunately for Leon, at least these were leftover. It was a bit disappointing there was so little left in the kit, but Leon told himself that someone else might have really needed those supplies.

Leon stiffly laid out all his supplies out onto the bed next to him, careful not to aggravate his injuries further. Training at the police academy taught him the basics of medical treatment and then some, but he still wasn’t sure if he would be able to effectively treat himself with these meager pickings. He had no choice but to try. He glanced about the room again, wondering if there were any places he could loot for more supplies.

It was then he remembered the mirror cabinet atop the sink. Growing up, his mother had always put medicine and other things in the medicine cabinet in their shared bathroom; maybe there was something he could salvage.

Leaning over, Leon tried to see if he could spot what was inside the cabinet from where he was sitting, but it was closed shut. Not waiting to see if it would magically open itself, Leon begrudgingly pulled himself onto his feet again, much to his body’s dismay, and limped towards the cabinet. It wouldn’t open at first and Leon wondered if it was locked, but after a moment of prying, it swung open, nearly banging against the wall. Leon managed to jerk his hand out to catch it before it smacked against the wall. He sighed in relief; that would have definitely made a ton of noise.

Now that it was open, he began rummaging through the contents of the cabinet. Toothbrushes, mouthwash, toothpaste, some other bathroom knickknacks filled the shelves, seemingly untouched since hell began. After a moment or two of searching, Leon managed to uncover half a pack of band aids, an unopened bar of soap, paper towels, and one dusty hand towel. It wasn’t much, but it was something. Combined with the stuff he already had, this was practically a bounty.

He was about to turn away back to the bed when he noticed something dark and shiny in the crevice of the shelf. Leon reached for it and was surprised to find an unopened bottle of rubbing alcohol. Leon couldn’t stop himself from grinning as he recovered the bottle and hurried back to the bed. He couldn’t believe his luck; with this he would be able to treat some more wounds and then some. 

“Right then…” Leon murmured, thinking for a moment, trying to figure out the next course of action.

He dragged the chair so now it was settled in between the bed and the sink, so now he could sit in between without having to walk back and forth. The first thing he did was rip open the box of soap and pulled out the bar. Thankfully, the water was still running so he would be able to wash his hands. He gingerly took off his gloves and put it aside to be used for later.. Once his hands were clean, he brought out the dusty hand towel, drying his hands on it, before reaching over to douse it in the running water. Once it was properly wet enough, he wrung out the towel of excess water before tentatively bringing it up to the back of his neck. 

The cool water stung the wound, but it felt sort of refreshing as he dabbed away at it. Tender flesh protested against the coarse fabric rubbing against it but Leon endured it all the same. He wiped away any crusty dried blood he could reach, doing his best to clean up the affected area. Leon contemplated standing up to see if he could clean it better in front of the mirror, but his leg was still throbbing like hell and he didn’t feel like standing up. It should be fine, it wasn’t like his neck was  _ that  _ bad anyway. Hopefully.

Once he felt that the wound was clean enough, Leon hung the now bloodied hand towel on the sink side and opened the small bottle of rubbing alcohol. He poured a little onto one of the paper towels he had folded into a square. The cop grimaced inwardly, anticipating how much this was going to hurt, but it had to be done. The last thing he wanted was the wound to get infected. With a deep breath, he placed the paper towel on his neck. Immediately Leon doubled over as the searing pain set his wound in a hellish blaze. He forced himself to just take it, taking deep breaths and counting in his head, whining a bit.

After a while, the burning sensation faded away and Leon let the ointment stick to the back of his neck to truly soak in. When the pain had completely faded away, he peeled away the paper towel and put it aside to be trashed later. He contemplated putting the herbs into his wound, but he felt like the alcohol had done it’s job and he could do without it. Now that the wound was clean, Leon peeled open one of the medical patches he had recovered from the first aid kit earlier and with some effort, was able to cover the injury up. 

Leon craned his neck gratefully, feeling satisfied now that the injury had been treated and covered. While it didn’t really take  _ that  _ much effort, Leon couldn’t help but feel a little proud of himself for this accomplishment. 

But now that this was out of the way…

Shifting his foot lightly, Leon glanced back down at it and licked his lips.  _ This  _ was going to be a true testament to his ability to withstand pain.

The young man moved himself from the chair to the floor, foreseeing that as soon as he was going to peel away his pant leg that it would start bleeding again. It would be better if he kept his heart as leveled as his wound as possible, so gravity won’t start pumping blood out of it the moment he exposes it. He moved his supplies onto the chair so it was within arms reach and fetched the bloody towel so he could resoak it.

When he turned on the sink again, Leon was pleasantly surprised to find that the water had turned warm. Even though this place was absolutely desecrated, it seemed like the heat was still somehow working. The warm, wet towel would make the wound feel better, he hoped.

“It won’t hurt…” He tried to tell himself, reaching over to start stripping away his pant leg. “It  _ won’t _ hurt…”

Oh, but it  _ sure did.  _

It didn’t hurt until Leon started pulling on the cloth stuck to the wound. Every time he pulled, Leon felt like he was trying to rip away his own flesh. He kept tugging at it slowly, trying to inch the fabric away, but the pain was just so intense it made Leon squirm in place, tears dotting his eyes. He considered just ripping it all off in one fluid motion, but he was worried that doing that might rip away more of his flesh and make things worse.

Thinking quickly, Leon grabbed that warm wet hand towel and started to inch it underneath his pant leg, squeezing it in between the cloth and the wound. The dampness of the towel softened some of the dried blood and released it’s furious hold on the fabric, making it easier for Leon to peel it away. Seeing this, Leon re-soaked the towel with more warm water and dripped the water into the wound. It burned, but it was much better than trying it when the wound was dry.

With patience, effort, and a slew of curse words and involuntary whimpers, Leon finally pulled the last bit of pant leg loose, rolling it up his leg to reveal the bloody wound underneath. When he finally looked to see the big reveal, Leon wished that he hadn’t.

“Fuck.” 

Sharp teeth marks had shredded the flesh on his calf. Leon could see how some parts of his flesh were being held by strands of muscles. Rivers of blood now began to make this way down his leg, leaking from the fresh wounds he had made by pulling the pant leg off. 

Looking at it was horrifying, but Leon had trouble looking away. It was  _ so  _ mesmerizing and foreign, his eyes were glued to the scene. He’s arguably seen much worse injuries inflicted on the zombies he fought off, but it was different seeing it on his own body. Time seemed to slow as each droplet of red fell to the floor. Leon could almost hear the pulsating raw open flesh squirm in tandem to his heart. It was almost like Leon’s consciousness detached itself from reality and he was staring at a fuzzy screen far away. Even the blinding pain seemed to fade into the background, a strange static sound enveloping his mind. It felt freezing cold, but burning hot at the same time; his senses just felt both overwhelmed and washed out.

**_Wake up._ **

A commanding voice racked through his mind like a heavy torrent as Leon began to realize what was happening. He was going into shock. In his final moment of lucidity, his clammy fingers managed to grab the now cold towel and drape it over the injury, not as tight as he would like but his fingers weren’t working right at the moment, but more importantly to break his line of sight of the wound.

“No, no…I’m....” Leon muttered out loud, maybe a bit too loudly. He hoped his own voice would wake him up. “I-I gotta... _ God damn it. _ ” 

He just had to think about stuff, think about  _ anything _ . If he let himself succumb to tempting darkness, Leon was sure that he would die then and there. Scavenging all the willpower he had left, Leon fought the shadows threatening to consume his vision. He waded through his thoughts like they were mud, fighting not to let that light fade away. For a moment, the pressure of the darkness had grown so strong,Leon thought that he had lost and had fallen unconscious, but he shifted his leg and through the chilly feeling, he was still able to feel that sore pain. 

Thank goodness, he was still awake.

Slowly and surely, Leon managed to pick up the pieces of his consciousness, knowing that he had to quickly recover to treat the wound or he might bleed out. Eventually, he managed to recover enough from his daze that he was able to flex his fingers with some control. His mind was still incredibly hazy, but it was getting better. The good thing at least was that the shock muted his nerves, which made his leg hurt less. What he wouldn’t do to call 911 right now and be treated by a doctor, but there was no such thing here. 

He was alone.

Gulping a deep breath, Leon knew he couldn’t let himself be overwhelmed by this sight. He peeked under the now cold wet bloody towel and saw that the bleeding has mostly stopped, but so has most of the feeling in his leg. It had gone numb and cold, just like the towel, but Leon was still able to feel the fringes of pain in the background somewhere; it was hard to decide whether or not this was a good or bad thing. He wiped the towel a little on the wound, just to get any dirt and grime left behind out of the way. The young man only stole quick glances of the wound, not letting his mind study the gruesome injury anymore than it already did, in fear that it would only drag him down into the dark world of unconsciousness.

Leon fumbled with the herb mixture he had saved up just for this instance, taking his fingers and carefully jamming the mixture into the open wounds. As if by magic, Leon watched as the medicinal leaves soaked into the open wound, creating a strange gunky barrier between open flesh and open air. It stung and it felt  _ icky _ , but it was soon replaced by a minty chill as the herbs did it’s magic. He dumped all of the herbs into the scary looking wound, making sure to fill all the gaping holes with the leaves. Leon tried not to think about how gruesome that sounded.

Satisfied with the treatment of herbs, Leon quickly grabbed the bandages he had saved just for this moment, wrapping it around his wound. It took a moment or two of fumbling to get the right tightness that felt comfortable for him, but eventually the gruesome wound was now hidden away under several layers of gauze. Once that was done, Leon pulled his pant leg back down over his leg, hiding the wound further. 

“Huh.” Leon huffed, feeling rather strange.

Suddenly, Leon felt himself sag against the wall. He hadn’t even noticed the warm tears that had started trailing down his face under all that dirt and grime. Leon didn’t even realize he had become crying. He rubbed his eyes furiously.

“Come on…” He scolded himself, trying to control the waterworks. “I-I can do this.” The tears still kept coming. “ _ Stop it _ .”

Leon was getting frustrated with himself for feeling this way. He knew he couldn’t break down now, not after all he’s already survived, not when there was still so much more to survive. It was just...this was just hell. An utter nightmare. How is this all even real? His day seemed so normal when he had woken up that morning. He had been so looking forward to working here. 

Now he had been forced to slaughter this would be fellow cops and the citizens he had once so heroically wanted to protect. How could have things turned so much upside down?

What would happen after this? Even if he did survive, how would he continue on living?

Was it even worth it? 

His gaze wandered towards his handgun, which had been carefully tucked away in it’s holster. The young man took out his gun and turned it over in his hands, realizing how easy it would be to put a bullet between his eyes. Just hold Matilda up to his head and pull the trigger. One small action. The nightmare would be over, he wouldn’t have to suffer anymore.

Leon entertained this thought for a while as he looked at the features of his gun. 

Honestly, it wasn’t the first time this morbid thought had graced his mind. Even in the few hours he had been here, he had already been in such pressing and harrowing situations, it seemed like it would have been better if he had just ended it instead of letting himself get mauled alive. 

He sighed, feeling a bit depressed. This may have not been the first time he thought this, but Leon knew it wouldn’t be the last time either. 

“It’s up to me.” Leon told himself, the tears on his face drying. “I can do this.”

There was no one else left alive in force. He was the last one here. He had to make Marvin and the others proud. It was his duty as a cop to help others. Leon’s mind drifted to Claire and Sherry. They were still wandering around somewhere, he couldn’t rest until he knew they were okay. There could be other people that needed his help too. 

No, he couldn’t stop now.

He wiped the remnants of his tears on the back of his hand before reaching over to his gloves to put them on again. Leon collected all of his supplies had left scattered about, especially the rubbing alcohol, which would definitely be useful for later. Using the soap, Leon washed the hand towel and wrung it out, tucking it into what little space he had left in his hip pouches. He double checked the area, making sure he had recovered everything. 

After sweeping the room again, Leon went over to the lamp, taking in the warm glow one last time before turning the knob, plunging the room back into darkness. He blinked for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness once more. 

Leon’s leg didn’t really hurt that much anymore so that meant that he could probably start running pretty soon. Good thing too, he couldn’t afford to get caught and gnawed on again. His body wouldn’t be able to take much more abuse and come out fine. He had made one mistake back then and it cost Leon dearly. He won’t make another mistake.

He walked out of the bedroom and into the other room. Leon noticed that the table was still shoved up against the door, just where he had left it earlier. As he made his way towards the door, some part of him wondered if he could just stay here.

Leon shook his head and went over to the table, pushing it aside, back to where it had been before he entered. As safe as had felt here, Leon knew that he couldn’t stay here forever. He had to keep going, he had to press on. 

And with that, Leon pushed open the door and continued on living the nightmare. 

For many years to come.

**Author's Note:**

> Also, this fic also slightly solves one of my biggest questions in RE2make, how the hell did Leon get that rubbing alcohol and cloth to treat Ada when he found her? Well now, according to this fic, Leon got it here and later would use that same cloth and alcohol to treat Ada later. I just thought it was a small fun detail I could add to make this fic a little more realistic.
> 
> I realize that this fic literally was giant blocks of text of basically describing Leon treating his wounds and his mental state, but I had a lot of fun writing it. I hope the people who read this have as much fun reading it as I did writing it.


End file.
